Page 68 of Into Darkness (Night Prowler 6)
“I’ll take the floor,” he and Lumina said at the same time, staring at the twin-sized bed.
Magnus moved past her into the small room, dropping his pack on the wood dresser. The room was sparsely furnished but clean, with an adjacent bathroom. He did a quick inspection, then turned back to Lu, still unmoving in the doorway. She looked pale.
“You’re taking the bed. I’m sure there’s a couch downstairs I can sleep on.”
“I don’t snore,” she muttered, dropping her own pack beside his on the dresser. Magnus frowned, wondering at the tone of insult in her voice. Surely she didn’t think—
“Everything copacetic?” James appeared in the doorway, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and Magnus enjoyed the image of the dark-haired man sailing through the air, screaming, after he’d tossed him over the second-floor railing.
“Fine,” he answered, teeth gritted. “Thank you.”
Lu asked, “James, do you have a couch downstairs? Magnus and I—”
“Are very happy with the room,” he cut in. He was surprised how easy it was to speak through clenched teeth. Probably it had to do with his vast experience in the area. “Again, thank you.”
He spoke the words with just enough hostile emphasis that James’s smile faltered. He cleared his throat, then cleared out with a salute and an awkward, “Great. Awesome. ’Bye.”
When he’d gone, Lu said, “Why don’t you like him? He seems perfectly nice.”
No, he seemed perfectly obnoxious, and, worse, perfectly enamored. There was no way in hell Magnus was going to chance letting Lumina sleep unguarded with that hound sniffing around. Without answering, he removed his jacket and threw it on the chair, then stood there with his hands on his hips, glaring at nothing.
The sound of bedsprings squeaking made him turn. Lumina was perched on the edge of the bed, back ramrod straight, lips pressed together, face the color of a ripe tomato.
“What?” he asked.
“Is this how it’s going to be now? You seething and ignoring me because I forced you to take me along? I just want to prepare myself so I don’t expect anything. Like, a normal conversation.”
The sarcasm in her tone announced her anger better than shouting would have. Magnus ran a hand through his hair, trying to get his jealousy under control. Trying, for once, to think rationally where Lumina was concerned. “I’m not angry because of that.”
Her back stiffened. “Oh.” She shook her head, laughed a short, humorless laugh. “Right. I should have known.” She stood, moving as if a steel bar had been implanted in her spine. “Well, you don’t have to worry; it won’t happen again. You have my word.”
“What are you talking about?”
She turned her head so he saw her in profile. But she didn’t look at him. And her face was still that troubling shade of red.
“Touch you. Kiss you. I-I won’t do that again.” She paused, then said in an angry rush, “I’ll leave that to Nola,” and bolted to the door.
Lumina was fast, but he was faster. Magnus reached her just before she passed the threshold, took hold of her arm, slammed shut the door, and pushed her—less gently than he should have, he realized as her eyes widened in alarm—against it.
He stared down at her, one hand on her arm and the other braced against the door. Their noses were inches apart.
“I’ll ask you again, and I want an honest answer,” he said gruffly. “What are you talking about, Lumina?”
She moistened her lips, and he almost groaned. This close, the scent of her skin and hair, the warmth of her body, conspired to strip every rational thought from his mind. A tremor ran through her arm and it was all he could do not to lean in and cover her mouth with his.
“You like her,” Lumina whispered, staring into his eyes. “Nola. You like her.”
He blinked, confused. “What’s not to like? She’s obviously intelligent, resourceful, loyal . . . she’s putting her own safety at stake to help us . . .” He trailed off because Lumina’s lips twisted. She looked away, breaking their eye contact, and refused to look at him when he asked her to. So he took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him, and they stood there like that for several long seconds, just gazing at each other, until it hit him like a shock of cold water poured over his head.
“You’re jealous?” he whispered, astonished.
She didn’t deny it, which was just as shocking as her jealousy. Her cheeks burned, but she just stood looking at him silently, her chest rising and falling with short, erratic breaths.
He’d never before in his life been tested as cruelly as this. With his hand on her face and their bodies so close and now this, this impossible, beautiful, maddening thing . . .
She was jealous over him. She was jealous over him.
He closed his eyes and muttered a curse.
